Jacob Frye x Abused Reader
by otakudemon14
Summary: A girl, who has been brought up in a brutal way. Used as a tool, and nothing more. With no real significance, place to associate herself with. No place to call home. She was just an empty, isolated shell. A doll, hiding the most deepest of secrets and demons that devoured her inside out. Who working in the shadows, as a killer for the Templars; a cold blooded killer with no remorse
1. Chapter 1

_Empty, that's how I felt….A dull feeling inside, I had no place to really call home, no one to associate myself with...A tool, I was called...Cold, so cold I felt...Like I had been drowning that's what it felt like, in this isolation, this despair, this tragedy._

 **~Reader's P.O.V. ~**

Another day, the same as always. Just going through the same dull motions, the same frames. Everything, it was awful...I was a mistake, an empty shell. My only purpose to serve, to be a tool; to be an extension of my father's power. I worked in the shadows, for him; doing the deeds that society deemed unforgivable. No one knew me, no one could see past my mask. I was known, as thief, assassin, murderer, killer, whore, bitch, useless, filth. I didn't really have a name, except for the one my mother gave me (Y/N). But my father never really called me that he would say 'Girl, come here' or 'Child!' and 'You'. I was just a tool, that never met his expectations; that never pleased him. I was never good enough, I wasn't the son he was expecting. I was a girl, born with my twin sister; who was identical. We didn't have a normal relationship, it was a sadistically cruel one. Pinned against each other, we were raised like animals. A circle, of hate, madness, pain, anger; that just went round and round. An endless competition that was between us to please our father, to make him use one over the other. To get that human interaction even if it was to be used, or to kill or to steal. That small amount of freedom, that kept us sane. Raised to kill, our father a Templar; raised us as tools to kill. Beating us till we broke, torturing us; forcing us to do his will. He bent our persons, our very beings into what I was today. Yes, you heard correctly to what 'I' was today. My sister, failed my father at an early age of nine; which resulted in her early death by torture. As punishment, to return the debt she owed. Kill, or be killed. That was the law for me, to do his will. Or face the consequences, but since I was the only one left. He wouldn't kill me, unless I really did mess up badly. Then he would, and I knew it would be a slow and painful death. I felt like a puppet, without blood running in my veins. So used and abused, that I was drowning in this isolation.

I was never going to be able to escape him, the memories. His words, actions; which were drilled into my mind and never forgotten. I was a beautiful young woman, or everyone said that I had come in contact with besides my father. Most of those people, were dead; they had died by my hands, under my father's orders. I was tall, about 5' 11", weighing at a solid 120lbs. A lean, toned; athletic build. A feminine frame, with voluptuous curves and smooth fair skin. Striking, (E/C) eyes that held a dull gaze, that hide such pain and misery if you looked closely enough. Long, (H/C) locks, that cascaded down the small of my back. Rosy red, silky, thin lips; that always were in a frown. Unless I was trying to seduce a man into bed for information, or when I was using my silver tongue to trick a fool. Or when I was undercover, when I acted. When it came to acting like an actually human being, I was at a loss. Trying to express myself honestly; it just came out as a strangled plea for someone to save me, to make me feel alive. I was so detached from society, that I couldn't really function. I would stand there, staring blankly off; that people would just assumed I was mute or mentally slow. I was so used to the icy, cold embrace of solitude I lost my yearning for someone to make me feel alive. I was now eighteen; nothing had changed. I was still my father's tool (Y/N) (S/N), only daughter of a high, crude Templar. I was a very dangerous person, A Master with blades, with hand to hand combat; and stealth. Trained till I was broken, physically, mentally, and emotionally. Now a weapon, of mass destruction, of desolation. I was a threat to many, I would come in the night to slit your throat. Or make a public display that would be raging in the papers for weeks on end. Or I would trick you into bed with me, or just plain bulldoze through your defense and kill you. Maybe torture you slowly for the enjoyment of my own sadistic self or for others entertainment. I was carved into this sick person, this sadistic person with no soul. Just a hatred, an anger; that never died out. Today I was with my father in London, we were called their; or rather my father was called their. By Mr. Starrick himself, a personal request to aid him in his struggle against the Assassin's. Against these Frye Twins, who seemed to be an unstoppable force that were just taking one step after another with seemingly no struggle. I was brought with, to work to complete my father's biddings like always. I never came into this expecting, what the following actions would be.

For weeks, I have been bulldozing through their shipments, and cargo by train and carriage. Through people who have been associated with the so called twins, their allies; death threats. Everything, causing trouble; to sending some blighters to shake them up a tad. Today there was a Gang War, at the Thames. I was with the lunatic woman who ruled over them, who was simply mad in my opinion. Edith Swinebourne; I was sent here to help Miss Swinebourne with the Frye twins, or twin in this case. My father had sent me there, to change the outcome of this battle. I stood there, facing down the bridge. Scanning over the crew of men and women; who were dressed in a quite disgusting shade of green. Before I found my eyes piercing his gaze. It was one that held a power hungry look, one that would make most second guess their choice. One filled with confidence and a sadistic look of enjoyment. I stared back, examining him; his stance. His attire, that cocky smug look on his face. Compared to my dull one (E/C) with a cruel, grim look. My lips pursed in an insensate frown; my arms behind my back. My left hand clasping onto my right wrist; legs shoulder width apart. Posture resistant; yet graceful.

As his attention fully on me now, his smirk only grew; his brash attitude only blinding him. He jumped off of the carriage, landing on his feet with a harsh thump. To emphasize his point in his power, and brutality most likely. The way he swung his arms, as he waltzed over. Before putting his arm in the air calling out "This turf is ours!" those men and woman he called rooks; cheered and ran towards us head on. The blighters gave their battle cry, the next thing you know you hear the sound of flesh being brutally beaten; the grunts of pain and cries of power. Guns loading, and discharging; I was quick and moment the two opposing sides clashed I attacked, I promptly went into the mix of colors. Into the field, where I drew out my throwing knives. With a grace in my steps, but a cruel look in my eyes; no pity nor remorse. As I threw each blade at a Rooks skull, as I watched their body slowly crumble. Their groan, as they felt the sudden pain. Before their eyes lost the light, of a person even existing in the now lifeless corpse. Sprawled out at the feet of a blighter, limbs in an awkward angles; as their blood pooled onto the cool cobblestone bridge. It went on like this for what seemed like ages, everything just seemed to take ages. As the battle between gangs for the turf drew out; before the sudden cry as Miss Swinebourne hit the ground. Groaning in pain, I stood their with the few Blighters; and the fairly small amount of Rooks remaining. Without hesitation, I charge; at the remaining Rook. Without a care, without even stopping to look at this Jacob Frye. I killed the last of his men; in mere seconds. Holding long blades, designed for close hand to hand combat; held in each of my hands in a back handed style. Movements so fluid, as I slit their throats; while dancing between their corpses falling to the ground, and sloppy punches and bad aims with the small revolvers. Before I met his gaze, he stood there an odd expression on his face mixed between a murderous intent and curiosity. But as swift as I was, I did not give him a chance; without linger I disappeared into the crowds just like that.

 **~ Jacob's P.O.V. ~**

There she stood, a girl who had almost immediately caught my sights; my senses honing in on her deathly presence. A girl, who look so young and innocent; but when you peered into the (E/C) you could see the lethal look they held. Filled with a brutality and isolated gaze; that would send most to their knees in fear. Yet something was hidden in that gaze, something so hard to detect that from this distance I couldn't quite make it out. But none the less she made me more curious about just who she was; I did not recognize her at all. But she wore a necklace with the Templar insignia and a classic uniform similar to Miss Thorne's but different; in small details. She had a strong, powerful stance; yet it had a feminine twist. Much like my sister Evie's; from what I could tell she carried a small assortment of blades. Grinning I hopped down, off of the carriage; and rallied my Rooks for attack. Without hesitation they charged, the Blighters falling in step. But that's when I lost sight of her, but what made me even more on edge was that I couldn't sense her presence. That lethal, almost chilling presence she had, just vanished. Quickly I followed my men into battle; hearing their cries and the cries of Blighters as they fought. Blood seeping into the crevices in between the cobblestone; this life was brutal. As I made my way through, punching, slicing up some blighters. Along with the satisfying sound of bones cracking, and the scent of gunpowder and blood in the mix. I found Edith Swinebourne, obviously on some kind of drug; screaming and killing my Rooks. After a difficult battle, due to having so many Blighters come to her aid. I silenced her, with a blow to the head with a bullet from my revolver. Smirking I turn to face my men, before that brash attitude of mine fell from my face. In a blur, of graceful movements, of blood spraying and baneful actions. They fell, their stood the girl; who looked like an angel, but was a demon in disguise. With that same dull look, no remorse or pity was held in her eyes. The Blighters, stared at their feet and back away from her; not daring to get in her way. I felt an odd twist, of wanting to take down the smug bastard; but also to expose what secrets she held; to find out who broke this girl into the person she was today. The twisted being, with such elegant movements, such barriers that surrounded her being. Her gaze bore into my own, nothing changed in her stiff expression; those eyes still shielding away from anyone reading her like a book. With lingering any longer; she stepped back into the crowd, disappearing once again like before. Part of me felt a tug, a pull to chase after her; to just go and cheekily follow her. But then I had to put in my authority here, to state that this was now Rook territory and take any members from the Blighters who wished to join our forces. Evie, was going to yell at me; when I met her gaze as she appeared after the battle. Most likely just finished some business with Greenie; that man she was so obviously obsessed with. After my usual speech, she growled and demanded what had happened; why were so many of our men now dead. Of course, with my nature I just audaciously replied and received a swift blow to the back of my head from my sister dearest.


	2. Chapter 2

**\\\~TimeSkip~/**

 _From childhood's hour I have not been As others were; I have not seen._

 _As others saw; I could not bring. My passions from a common spring._

 _From the same source I have not taken_

 _From ~Edgar Allen Poe: Alone~_

 **~Reader's P.O.V.~**

I slipped throughout the crowd, easing my way back into my reality. I had failed, my assignment; failed him. My stomach turned, the numb sensation spread throughout my body. I held my breath, before slowly easing it out. Then jumped climbing up onto the rooftops from the alley I had slipped into; finally reaching the building. I slipped into the window, and then walked down the hall towards the temporary office he had here in London. I heard his grumbling, the usual scuffle of the noise from his short temper. I knocked on the door, hearing his gruff voice; replying sharply "State your name, and purpose" I let out a soft sigh and replied in my dull voice "It's (Y/N), to discuss today's matters." He growled in response, I opened the door; shutting it behind me softly. Walking into the center of the room, feet shoulder width apart. Shoulders, back chin up eyes forward. My hands behind my back, my left hand grasping around my right wrist firmly. He stood up, and peered out the window speaking in a normal tone "Word has reached me of your failure, that Miss Edith Swinebourne is dead…Would you mind telling me, what happened." I held my breath briefly, before replying to his words "Sir, during the war; for turf. I was to assist in her protection, she stated she would not need my assistance with Mr. Frye but with his men. So under her order, I went after the Rooks; during that time he had made his way over to Miss Swinebourne. And took her down, which I followed through with her orders and killed the remaining rooks. Before falling back, and coming straight here to report…" He turned to me, rage filled his eyes. He stalked over, footsteps loud; his hand raised he slapped me across the face harshly. I felt my neck snap to the side, as I bite back a grimace of pain. My body slightly bent over, but I dare not move or even look. He growled grasping my hair tightly and yanking my head up; and yelled "How dare you, answer me with such...you insignificant failure can you not do anything right! You were supposed to change the outcome, you should have made sure to distract from her completely and eliminate him from the picture!" I stared up at his enraged face, before he threw me into his desk. I hit the wooden surface, with my hand stopping the blow mostly. Bent over the surface, before I felt his hands grasp my shirt and tugged me off kneeing me in the stomach. I groaned as I crumpled to the floor, clutching my abdomen gasping for air; as it was knocked out of my lungs. He didn't let me rest, he grabbed his campaign glass and threw it at me the glass cutting into my forehead. I flinched, sitting back as I felt blood seep down over my right eye. He just laughed at me, leaning on his desk and peering down at me, his sadistic voice speaking "Look at you, so pathetic...you're such a sad sight...you will not fail me, girl! YOUR ONLY PURPOSE IS TO BE MY TOOL, YET YOU DARE FAIL AND COME BACK LIKE NOTHING IS WRONG! YOU A SAD LITTLE BITCH WHO NEEDS TO BE PUNISHED. I WILL MAKE YOU REGRET YOUR DECISION…" He walked up to me, I looked up at him. With my hollowed look, quiet and silent. Before he began to beat me, like always when I failed. He first grabbed my messed up hair, and slammed my head into the wall making my sight filled with a flash of white. I slumped slightly, from the my head aching; the searing pain spread throughout my skull. A kick in my gut, followed by another and another and another. I lay there curled up in a ball, as I felt him punching and kicking me. Coughing, and trying to block his swings at me with my shins. Before I heard him speak once again after what seemed like forever "Get up!" I slowly got to my feet, pushing off of the ground hissing. I have had worse, than this; he used to break my bones, or cut me; burn me. Sometimes whip me, I watched him take out a knife; i froze the dread sinking in. He then motioned to the desk, I slowly walked over. He was one of the only things I feared, I held out my right arm. Before he roughly grabbed my wristed; setting my arm down on the desk and cutting up my sleeve. Then he began to slice open my skin, writing jagged letters; each getting all the more deeper it seemed like. I screamed, in pain; trying to keep still so he wouldn't abuse my arm anymore. After he finished, I reeled my arm back; looking at the bloodied mess written out 'Failure is not an option'.

He just smirked, and walked around at touched my face in a mockingly tender way "Child, you won't fail; this is just the beginning" The next thing I know, I wake up on the floor of the office. My head ached, I looked around; vision hazy. As I pushed myself to my feet, my body ached I could barely stand; before colliding into the wall. Groaning, before everything hit me, my shoulder was dislocated, my left leg and hip hurt with immense pain. Writhing, struggling, I stumbled back to my room, looking in the mirror; at my reflection. My hair was a mess, a black eye forming over my right eye. My lip split, and covered in a bloody scab; my arm was no better. My right shoulder awkwardly hanging, at an odd angle. My body covered in cuts and bruises, my clothes disheveled. I then heard a knock at my door, in which I answered. "Yes?" I already knew who it was it was my father's butler 'Matthias' he walked in, with his usual plastered on smile. With the usual first aid, he walked over. I at their, quietly; as he fixed me up. Before grasping my arm, I looked away as he popped it back in a ground my teeth. Breath hitching from the pain, as I screwed my eyes shut. Even after all these years, the pain got any duller. Sure it hurt less, but I could always feel every punch. But I never felt the need to hide the pain, for if I hide it from my father he would beat me more harder, and worse. I learned that lesson the hard way, when I was a child. In front of strangers, and my victims yes; I could hide pain. As easy as I could breath. After that he left with a bow after cleaning up the mess, I changed into a dress. Fixing myself up, all prim and proper; heading down the steps. Tonight father had invited guests, from the Templar order; to eat dinner. I usually ate separate of him, but to keep his image up today I was to eat with him and his colleges.

At dinner I sat quietly, at the table. Fork in my left hand as I ate the food in small bites, refraining from speaking like a proper young lady. They conversed and laughed, sipping the champagne. My attire hid the cut upon my forehead by the way my hair was styled. As well as the lots of powder on my face to hide the bruising, long sleeves to cover my wounds. It was a modest dress, yet it hugged my form perfectly. The corset tight, and making my abused abdomen ached; my breaths more short and usual good posture even the more tight. It was long but the men did strike up a conversation with me a few times, I gave them the usual smile. And high, gentle voice; vibrant eyes and the usual lady act. After it was over my father called for me in his study this time, and to be prepared for new orders. Quickly I changed out, in order to be their as swiftly as possible and to be rid of this constricting attire. After getting rid off it all, I knocked before entering; he briefed me over Lambeth. I was to assist there this time, it was the assassins next move and area to conquer. Nodding, I left; my father had already sent word to the men there about my arrival tomorrow at their meeting. I head off to bed, to rest and recuperate; tomorrow I was to right my wrong. By completing meaningless task after task; just to earn back what little respect I had.

The next day, was no better; I woke up with my entire body screaming in agony. My muscles sore, and my head pounding with a headache. But none the less, I got ready; putting on my usual attire and such. Before getting my weaponry, my large knife pouch; for my many throwing knuckles, to sock a bloke in the face. A simple medicine kit, to help with small wounds and such. Smoke bombs, for distraction and my handcrafted knives. That were designed for close combat, to cut and stab enemies; to injure them greatly from flicks of the wrist and such. My own revolver, at my side in a holder; yet last but not least one of my more favorable weapons a cane sword. It was a concealed weapon, that I could have in my hands at all times. With a mare on the top, all shiny and polished. When I arrived in Lambeth, I scouted the area; blending in with the crowds and no presence whatsoever. Getting a grip of my surroundings slowly, I had till late afternoon. Plenty of time to wander, and get my ins and outs sorted. Climbing up to a viewpoint was the best idea, I could see many things from here. But it was my favorite place, I felt different up here. More free, relaxed and at ease. Knowing no one, but an assassin could reach me here. All these years of torture had their advantage, I was swift and silent. A rose with thorns; I appeared like a harmless young lady; but once I let my true colors show you knew just how sadistic and lethal I was. If my father ever died, I could live a more normal life. I could do what I wished, without the fear of him. Without the struggle, yet I knew I could never escape my Isolation. I knew that deep down, I would just kill for money; I'd fall back into the shadows all over again because I don't know how to live like a normal person.

After a bit more of wandering, I headed over the the stronghold; where I was to meet with the head of this section of the blighters. Cletus Strain, I believe the man's name was; he loved to used smoke bombs and was a sadistic was tall, and burly; like a brute, no hair atop his head. Simple looking, like any other big man. I made my way over my attire, just like any templars; I walked by the two standing watch. And into the building with another accompanying me after a brief greeting. I chatted with the man, going over everything; what he needed done and needed assistance in. It was simple, cause the assassin trouble; if I had the chance try to slow him down an rough him up. But he wanted the kill, so if I were able to bring him into him that was to take I was too make sure a shipment of important weaponry and files got to its destination safely. Simple enough, I sat atop the bench in front with a man in red. Who looked tough, but most likely was just a fool; who thought he was the tough guy. All balls and no brains, just like most men; I didn't really converse with him, I just sat there dully staring ahead; peering around every so often to see if anyone was following us. My sharp, (E/C) eyes gazing over the rooftops for any man or woman out of the ordinary but no one. Soon I began to think that this must have not been that important till a very obvious; loud bang and crash was heard. Along with citizens screaming their bloody heads off; making my less severe but still there headache worse than it already was. I looked back and saw him, Mr. Jacob Frye. atop a carriage and heading straight for us. It made many thoughts come to mind, but mainly one stuck out more than the others 'Just what kind of assassin is he, I thought they were more discreet about their actions which is why their called assassins. He must be an complete idiot' I then pulled out my revolver aiming it at him I fired, before preparing for another shot; the bench jottled with every bump and turn; and the assassins crazed driving made it hard to calculate where to shoot it at. I shot again, this time knocking his arm and scraping deep into his skin but only a graze. I ducked down as he fired his own shots, the man next to me shaking and trying to get the horse to go any faster than it already was. I then climbed up standing atop the crates and fired at his horse, sending the animal down and causing his ride to flip. I watched closely, but to only see him jump out as soon as he saw the horse stumble. He quickly propelled onto the roofs and began to chase us that way. Quickly I hopped off the carriage, and onto the streets and began to make my way up to the rooftops. To see him standing there with a cocky smirk, and holding his right hand; which bore a nice pair of brass knuckles "I don't believe we've introduced ourselves properly love~ I am-" I cut him off by answering for him, in my monotone voice "Jacob Frye…" He only chuckled at me before popping his neck and sighing, as if this was just a normal thing for him; which I take it was due to his behaviour. He just grinned like a child "I believe I am at a disadvantage, come on a pretty little lady like you ought to have some manners no?" With that answer, I just glared at him.I placed my cane down calmly on the rooftop. Rolling my shoulders, back and slipping on my own brass knuckles, onto my gloved left hand. Looking him over, once; his smile fell slightly as he watched before sighing out dramatically. "I had-" But without even giving him time to speak or process what happened I ran at him; quickly he brought up his arms and blocked my blow taking a step back, he grinned devilishly "Bad choice love~" I then, put my hands up; taking a firm stance before replying back. My eyes held a lethal, hollowed gaze; a sadistic grin began to show "I'd have to say the same for you Mr. Frye; but yours was allowing yourself to be so easily tricked~" My tone sharp, feminine; but so dark. Then it began, he swung at me; but I ducked under and to the outside, grabbing his wrist and kneeing him. But he quickly, caught my leg and threw me back. I caught my footing, and dodged another blow he sent my way. But this time, I spun around him and kicked his back. He lost his footing momentarily, moving in a fluid act. I then kicked the backs of his knee with my foot. which knocked him to the ground he rolled up to his feet. But failed to notice how close he was to the edge and quickly bring his arms up to keep his balance. Then I socked him across the face, sending him down off of the edge; I peered over to see, he had grasped onto a ledge in the building.I gave him a simple wave, before vanishing once again; just like before I was gone with the wind.

 **~Jacob's P.O.V.~**

I underestimated her, she caught me completely off guard. I thought this would be a lot simpler and damn she could punch, I would definitely have a black eye no problem. On top of that she bested me at brawling, and disappeared once again. Damn it! I began to climb back up, she was gone; I knew by now the delivery was as good as out of my grasp. But I had no leads on her or where she'd be at all.


	3. Chapter 3

**~Chapter 3~**

 **~3 P.O.V.~**

A slender figure wearing dark clothing, moved through the crowds of London at ease. Breaths soft, controlled but posture sloppy and laboured. Heading into the alley's and out of plain sight they went, leaning into the cold, muck covered walls. Their bandaged right arm, had blood seeping through the wrappings. Further they went, passing by the usual beggars and shady figures; who did their dealings on this end of everything. Before sitting down on the soft, mushy ground, of soggy soil mixed with some plants that were persistent to grow here and only here. Back propped against the, dripping bricks, the scent of mud, molded wood and among over things was almost overwhelming to the senses. The sounds of soft mumbling, of children's laughter, of the lower people's cries. Of distant carriage's, and shops bargaining; the chimes of store bells ringing as doors opened.

 **~Reader's P.O.V.~**

I sat there, leaning against the damp brick wall; the droplets of water seeping into the cloth that now clung to my back. I peered down at my right arm, the once white bandages stained red with fresh blood. The stench of urine, booze and drugs was making me begin to gag. The few silhouettes I could make out, were of some men; who were drinking, in the shadows of the alley. Bidding on what sounded to be a fighting club, for I could hear the now clearly the crowd's cheers. Of bids being made, of grunts when the sound of flesh being connected with flesh. I was safe back here for the moment, I had lost the assassin; that buffoon. But my arms ached, my body screamed in agony; my breaths sent waves of immense pain throughout my ribcage. The cool, bitter air hear, that held a mix of many different flavours of the city life; made my lungs all the more ache. The shins of my arms, surely bruised even more; from his sharp crushing punches he sent at me. My branded arm, now bleeding, from the harsh contact that caused the scabs to re-open. I calmly, unwrapped the bandages, before cleaning it up a bit with some alcohol and wrapped it up once more. My body weakened significantly from last night's beatings, everything hurt. My torso from his kicks and punches, my face from the swelling under my eyes from the hit's to my face. The cut, above my right eye, that might scar there permanently. I've already had my number of scars, some from my active job, but most from my father and his uncanny rage. Slowly I eased myself to my feet, my brain coaxing my body to cooperate. I began to make my way back to where the stronghold was, it should not have been far. I was rather sure I had looped around correctly, but I wouldn't be able to tell for sure until I made it up to higher grounds. Once I scaled up to the tops, of the nearby structures, the roofs moist from last nights rain. With a firm, strong stance, I stood there; my (E/C) eyes scanning over the rooftops, the cobblestone lanes. My delicate ears, picking up on many things; as the waves of sound bound into them. The sounds, of nearby conversations, of the pounding of hooves against the roads, of people shouting at each the city life, of cries of surprises, to happy laughter, all of it just made this place seem all the worse. These people had no idea, of the war upon which was happening, this upper class had life so easy. Only those who lived in the dumps, who hung around the gangs, looking for small jobs or a pocket to steal from. Even the children, went so low to help support themselves and their families. I was the part of all of this, my father, the templars. I hardly ever agree with my father, his actions, or his plans for the better he calls them. To me both sides were to blame for the people's struggle, each side caused ripples that affects the people. But I was nobody, just like everyone else who wasn't some everyday person. I was an extension of my father's power, a weapon which was sharpened to the highest extent. I was flaunted around like some kind of jewel, like a rose with thorns. As I made my way back to the stronghold, I went over these thoughts in my head. Trying to decide for myself, yet trying to suppress these thoughts. Reaching the stronghold, I walked right passed the lookouts; they knew me, my face and that I was part of the gang. I walked inside, and grabbed some things my father asked for. Even if they were not my belongings, with my ghost like touches, the slight undetectable movements. I grabbed what I needed, before heading out and back into the streets; back to where the city of London. Back to the light, that hid the shadows; from afar it appeared normal. But like every city, it held its secrets, in the many twisting alleys and innocent faces.

 **~Jacob's P.O.V.~**

I sat back on my train, I had lost an important shipment that was really going to assist us in taking out that stronghold. But now that wasn't the most important thing, my handsome face was swelling and bruising, on my left eye. I looked ridiculous, me the "Jacob Frye" had just got bested by a girl who wasn't even my sister. But Oh, how Evie was going to lecture me about this and quote father and such. I sat down on my couch, lounging around as I looked around bored. Greenie was out at his shop, or with my sister; most likely the second. My Rooks, were working on tracking down a new shipment and if they had any info on that girl. She was striking, she intrigued me. With such power and ferocity, with that gaze that held so much emotions in those amazing (E/C) eye's. Such a slender figure, that looked so fragile but hid such lethality. I wasn't going to lie to myself, she was alluring. Most women, don't act like that. Are not so strong, fast and powerful. Yes I will admit they are strong, but usually not this strong. What was it that made her like that, I knew it would have to be something very dark that happened. That twisted look between anger, hatred, brutality; it hid a sorrow, a longing for something. I wondered, if I could find out more about her if I had Evie keep an eye out for our mystery guest. Licking my lips, as I droned out the hum of the train, that clashing of wheels against the iron tracks.

 **~Reader's P.O.V.~**

After reporting back to my father the findings and my success, we had a small discussion of what was coming up in the next week or so. A party, a formal one for the Templars; to discuss matters and relax, to flaunt their power most likely. I was to attend this party, with my father. He said I was to play the piano and violin, possibly sing in the main hall for the entertainment of the people who were aristocrats who were coming. Of course this party was under the disguise of an aristocratic families; who were celebrating the head of the family's son taking over his own partnership in the company. I was to keep an eye out and provide music, to make sure that if I notice anything odd or bothersome. For I was to take care of it and protect my father, as well as his friends most likely. I was now in my room, dismissed until further notice; it was late around six in the afternoon. My body ached, was sore, writhing in pain. I laid in my bed, shutting my eyes and letting sleep embrace me.

 **~Evie's P.O.V.~**

I was out gathering information on a lead Henry gave me, some of Starricks men were to discuss plans. I was to infiltrate the building and retrieve the letters of their next plans for the factories and maps of where they were at of the buildings designs. But what I wasn't expecting was to overhear a particular conversation. As I scaled up the structure and took out many of the men and woman standing guard with my throwing knives and stashing away their bodies of course. I passed by a room, where they were discussing a party. It was to be held in the next week or so, something about Starrick's men and himself being their to discuss their next plans of actions for London. An aristocratic party, to celebrate a son of a family partaking into the business. This was excellent news for us, we could infiltrate the party and take out some of our targets. Quickly I executed my plan and grabbed the letters and plans for the building. Before leaving the building and heading back to the train, to deliver the good news to Henry and Jacob. Upon arriving on the train, I first went to find Henry; who currently was out and about, which left me to discuss this with Jacob and hope for the best. Once I was at his usual spot on the train, I spoke loud and clear. "Jacob, I have some great news for us!" To which he looked over at me, in which I noticed his left eye swelling; along with the fact he wore an 'oh really?' look on his dumb face. I leaned against the wall and briefed him over this Templar, aristocratic party that was to happy, in which he immediately sat up and was all ears. After discussing this with him he just grinned and spoke in his usual arrogant tone "Ah~ This is indeed splendid news dear sister and here I was thinking you were here to tell me about you and Greenie." To which I scowled, crossing my arms and glaring at my younger sibling "For your information our relationship is strictly business oriented, now enough of this nonsense! How did getting the shipment, you git" Now that had got him to shut up and grumbled something under his breath which I could not even make out "Jacob, you're going ot have to speak louder. I can't understand a thing you're saying." Then he proceed to act out his dramatics, by tossing his head back and forcing himself to flop back onto the couch. With an eye roll, added; he crossed his own and spoke in a more clear tone "Of course sister dearest, they were some slight…...complications." in which I replied "How slight Jacob?!" my tone of voice beginning to edge towards aggravated. He just let out a long sigh and looked back to me, before grinning like an idiot "Well if you must know sister dearest I lost the entire shipment, all to a woman." Then I just snorted, covering my mouth with my gloved hand to try and hide my amusement. But his expression when he said to a woman was priceless, I knew he was an idiot; but this was definitely a stroke to his pride as a man. Before long I was laughing, having to hold myself against the wall of the caboose (? idk i forget what it's called). Holding my sides, as I watched my brother scowl at me. Before sighing and ignoring me, after regaining my composure I spoke to him. "So just who is this mysterious woman who has just defeated the Jacob Frye?" of course I was still aggravated at him for losing the shipment but this was time to get back at him and push his own buttons. He then smirked, and began to stroke his stubble covered chin and held a dangerous gleam in his hazel hues, opening his mouth to reply "Well, I don't know yet Evie...but what I do know is that I'm going to have lots of fun hunting down my mysterious little lady…" I then just shook my head, and smacking him across the head with the papers held in my hand while passing him by "Well, do try in not getting your arse handed to you once again, little brother."


End file.
